


The Man With the Wings Tattoo

by mikaylalwrites



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bar Room Brawl, Caring George Washington, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25170745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylalwrites/pseuds/mikaylalwrites
Summary: Alexander finds himself drunk and injured on the curb with little memory of how he got there. Everything is crashing down but a man with an angel wings tattoo appears to help him keep it together.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/George Washington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	The Man With the Wings Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> whamilton week day 4: wings

The world around Alexander wasn’t quite clear. The street lights ran together before him like the hours he tried to recount in his head. His brain wasn’t cooperating so he was left staring dumbly out at the street. All he could feel was the pulsating pain in his face and abdomen. He couldn’t recall exactly why he was feeling this pain. Every memory after he left his cousin’s hanging corpse in his house was in clips. The complete picture was getting away from him. All he could surmise was that his mouth ran away without him, as it always did, and the result was painful. He moved his head from the infuriating streetlights to the gutter below him. The lull of flowing water from that morning’s heavy rain was an easier sight to pick apart from his overtired and inebriated brain. 

A voice above spoke jumbled words that Alexander’s brain couldn’t be bothered to process. A similar series of noises akin to words flew over his head once again. Then the owner of the voice got lower and stood in front of him. Alexander didn’t process what the man said at first, he was too preoccupied by his worried eyes. Without so much concern in them, Alexander imagined they would be enrapturing. His eyes fluttered from the man’s bald head to the muscles that were visible through his shirt. He didn’t know the man or why he was talking to him but he knew he didn’t mind. 

“Hey, I asked if you were okay,” the man said. Alexander blinked. “Are you with anyone? Do you have a way home?” Alexander managed a ‘no’ to both. “Do you have money for a cab?” He searched his pockets haphazardly and shook his head. “Can you stand?” He put his hands down on the pavement and tried to push himself up. He was met with searing pain from his stomach. The man sighed and helped Alexander to his feet. This must have been the first time the man got a good look at him because he said, in a bit of shock but less than most would have, “You’re bleeding. You look like you have been handed Hell in a handbasket.” The man paused as if he’d just realized something. “I’m George Washington. I want to help you. I hope now that you know my name you’ll let me do that.” 

Alexander didn’t need to know his name to let him help in any way he wanted and he might have said such a thing out loud if his jaw didn’t hurt so much. Instead, he nodded. 

“Where do you live?” George asked. “We should get you back there.” Alexander shook his head. “You don’t remember your address?” 

“No, I jus- I just don’t wanna go there,” Alexander slurred. He reached a hand to his aching face.“Why the fuck does my jaw hurt so much?” 

“Might be that you look like you got hit by a brick,” George quipped. “Or a large fist.” 

“Oh.” 

“Where do you want to go?” George asked. 

“Your place works for me.” 

George rolled his eyes. “You don’t look as sexy as you think you do.” 

“What?” Alexander asked in disbelief. “Some people happen to find bruises sexy.” 

“Why do I feel like I’m about to make a very bad decision?” He sighed. “If you really don’t want to go home, you can come with me.” Alexander smiled deviously. “For sleep and some aspirin.” He frowned a little. 

George took Alexander’s arm and steadied him while they made the rest of the three-block walk to George’s apartment. Alexander leaned against the wall while George fished for his keys and unlocked the door. Once inside, he bypassed taking a look at his surroundings in favor of dropping his aching body on the nearest reclining chair. 

“Just make yourself at home…” George trailed off as he exited the doorway. “And you already have.” George discarded his jacket on a doorknob. “I’m going to get some rubbing alcohol and a cloth. Sit tight.”  
Alexander’s eyes caught the back of his neck as he left the room. He couldn’t help but notice the top of a tattoo of a pair of angel wings. It was just a sketch of them and no color. It was slightly faded with age. Not a recent tattoo but not more than ten years. 

“Nice tattoo,” Alexander said when George returned. He looked a little confused at first then uttered a ‘thank you.’ He took the cloth, poured a bit of rubbing alcohol on it, and dabbed Alexander’s face. “Fuck, that hurts.” When George dabbed again, Alexander swatted his hand away. 

“Do you want it to get infected?” he asked sternly. Alexander shook his head meekly. He never did anything meekly. “Okay then.” Once the blood was gone from his face, George motioned for him to lift his shirt. “No blood but that is one nasty bruise. You made someone very angry.” 

“I dunno how,” Alexander said with a weak shrug. 

“Maybe you invited yourself to their home too,” George joked. 

“Fuck off.” 

“See, it’s that exact attitude that got you beat up.” 

Once he had tended to each of Alexander’s injuries, George retired for the night, leaving him on the couch. He slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

Light was streaming through the window when he woke up again late the next morning. His eyes slowly eased open, attempting to adjust to the light. His head pounded in a way that reminded him like a hammer on a nail. He blinked as he looked in his surroundings. He was in a living room he didn’t recognize. It was too neat and silent to be his cousin’s place. He looked down at his bare torso and took note of the myriad of bruises. On the bright side, his shirt was the only item of clothing he was missing. He quickly found it on the neighboring armchair. He stood and found that the bruises still hurt. He couldn’t remember a time he woke up in so much pain during a hangover. He made his way to the kitchen to get something to eat or figure out where he was. He found two pills and a glass of water on the counter and took them both contentedly. 

He was scared out of his skin when a voice piped up behind him. “Sleep well?” 

Alexander turned around and marveled at the man in front of him who was only in shorts. “I thought I dreamt you.” 

“Nope. Here I am and I may be wrong but I feel real.” 

Alexander poked George in the chest partly to check and partly because he had the urge to touch him. “Feels real to me.” 

“Do you like pancakes?” George asked. Alexander nodded. “Good because I want some.” 

While George made pancakes, Alexander took a seat at his breakfast bar. He couldn’t help but look around at the random knick knacks and the calendar in George’s kitchen. He’d gotten all the way to December and back again when a pancake with a whipped cream smiley face appeared in front of him. 

“This is the most dad thing I have ever seen,” he said quietly. 

“I thought it might cheer you up.” 

Alexander started to cry. He cried because his dad left him when he was a kid. He cried because his mother died in front of him all those years ago. He cried because he found his cousin hanging from the rafters the day before. One small gesture cracked the thin dam that held all of Alexander’s emotions. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” George said. “Please don’t cry on my pancake.” 

“I don’t even like my cousin,” Alexander sobbed. “He was a gigantic fucking failure and now he’s dead. The world is better for it too.” 

George laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I don’t know,” Alexander said. “Everyone who has ever been close to me has died or left and I don’t think I can take it anymore. My dad left us. My mom died of something they couldn’t cure. I can’t remember what. My cousin just up and decides to end it when I think finally I’m settled somewhere.” 

“None of that is your fault, Alexander.” 

Alexander sniffed. “Where’d you find my name?” 

“It’s on your driver’s license. I had to check before I let you stay the night. No criminal record.” 

“Oh.” 

“Just know you’re welcome here anytime if you need anything,” George said. 

“I need a place to stay.” 

George nodded. “That can be arranged. Just get your stuff and you can stay on my couch.” 

Alexander rubbed his arm. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass but if I give you the key and the address, could you get my stuff? I never called the police so I think- I think my cousin’s body is still hanging there.” 

“Sure. I’ll go after work.” 

“And George?” Alexander asked. George nodded. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, please leave kudos/a comment. 
> 
> if you hated it, leave a comment. 
> 
> either way, feel free to check me out on [tumblr](https://violetsbaudelaire.tumblr.com) :D


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